Should I Have Searched Much Longer for You?
The rain bled out from the sky on a moonless night, as Nocturnal saw fit to protect the lives of those who served under her - thieves and lock picks who sent their prayers to her.
For On-A-Storm, this night and its self-serving gloom only reminded her of the tragedy that she knew as the Day of Separation. It had been late summer, and Carb had suggested that they stop for rest at a small stead deep within the cliff-ridden Rift area. They were still far from Riften at the time, as they had been sidetracked and chased by things such as dragons, Giants, and the Elven pair that had made the duo their personal targets.
Carb was outside of the stead, talking with a group of Bosmer who had been passing by the area. On-A-Storm had wandered over to the cliff edge that guarded the town on its northern end, watching the bratty children play from afar. Moments of peace were nice and though the night itself was dark, the happiness of the stead was apparent. Within moments rain came pouring down, the children ran inside, and Carb was holding a barrel lid over his head to shield himself from the crashing water as he and the Bosmer group split.
That was the moment that changed their lives, and split the traveling, questing pair - through the din of the rain and ‘squirk!’ of the mud a great and mighty cry could be heard - a dragon’s yowl of anger and rage towards both Mer and Man.
The swift beast was upon them before the cry itself faded out, and blasts of frozen rain hurtled towards one of the small shacks dotting the edge of the stead. Within moments the few guards and townspeople that could fight were attacking it, and the dragon lashed about with tail and tongue.
On-A-Storm tried at first to make her way over to Carb, but the dragon’s mighty voice felled trees blocking her first path. The other path was straight through the dragon itself, and though she tried to attack along with the villagers the beast would have none of it. She and a miner were swiftly knocked back, he into a fallen tree and her to the edge of the cliff-face. The dragon flailed more, trying to knock back its attackers - she could see Carb knocked under a tower of barrels as he was shoved away by a more than sizable claw. As she moved to get closer again however, the dragon unleashed yet another yowl - the frost-filled shout pushed her over the cliff’s edge. She fell into a small cavern not too far from the top of the cliff itself, but lay unconscious for a day and injured and helpless for three more with only bread, cheese, and water to sustain her. Sickness itself did not overtake her thankfully, and most likely due to her Histskin.
When at last she was found, it was hunters, not villagers, that came to her aid. She explained her situation, the happenings of the night -as much as she could remember at the time- and her partner. The hunters explained that the stead had been quickly abandoned, and that they had not seen the Orsimer man described to them. On-A-Storm asked them to take her up to the ruins of the stead so that she could search for Carb, if only to know that he wasn’t dead as she feared. His words about hope echoed faintly in her mind, but she knew the likeliness of survival was low in that situation. The hunters agreed to follow her as she searched, and answered any questions she had regarding the survivors that they had seen.
Word had spread quickly of the attack on the stead, and the leader of the hunters said that most survivors that had been seen so far were children who were small enough to hide in crevasses and oversized hollow trees. Storm’s search turned up nothing, and she thanked the hunters for their help.
From then on, no matter how she searched or where she went On-A-Storm could not find a trace of her dear companion. It sent her into a deep sadness, and when she rose from it enough to gather herself together she was in Riften for possibly the hundredth time. Riften…they had been constantly trying to get to Riften…but for what? She could no longer remember the reasons why, only that it was largely Carb’s idea. At that point, when a man walked by whom she had seen sneaking about before, she followed with her own skills and wound up in the dank underworld of Riften. Storm joined the Thieves’ Guild, and tried to continue living her life on her own.
She shook her head and broke from her reverie - there was a job to do now, after all. A traveler was walking his horse, and she was intent on stealing the fine-looking pelts that decorated the horse’s side. On-A-Storm would never ride a horse herself, though…it was just something she had never been quite comfortable with, and therefore she wouldn’t steal the beast. Aside from that, it is much harder to hide a horse than a pack of pelts.
Storm moved in swiftly and quietly, but the horse sensed her and whinnied. She wasn’t perfect, and this could spell disaster, but she swiped the pelt pack anyways and made to leave when a mace embedded itself in a tree next to her. On-A-Storm turned and parried the next blow with her dagger, her greatsword was a last line of defense now, but dropped the pack anyways. Him…it was him, it was Carb! It…oh Hist, she was stealing from Carb! Courage, bravery….no, she had none of that. Storm had been nothing like the upstanding Orsimer that she traveled with. She left her dagger, the pelts, any anything else she might have dropped (for the sound of paper didn’t escape her ears), and fled as quickly as she could into the shadows, knowing that he had seen her face. Her fear and shame had overcome her, and there was no hope left in her. On-A-Storm, Argonian woman, faithful friend…none of that mattered, she couldn’t face him like that. It hurt her deep inside to know that had she not seen his face she might have killed him to get away. This was a shame on herself and on her family…she had told them that she would never become the lowlife that other races expected her to be. On-A-Storm had even said the same to Carb, explaining her family’s promises to each other and their expectations of upstanding and kind behaviour. She saw her failures laid before her, and knew she could not return to the world of the upright as she was.
“I will mend the promises…one by one.” With a deep sigh, she moved onwards towards the mountain in front of her. The attempted theft had only been part of her mission, and her own pride wouldn’t let her leave the Guild without first taking back something stolen from a murdered member. The thieves of thieves’ things were camped outside of Riften on this mountain, a good ways up the jagged sides.
It wasn’t long before she was again caught at her job, though this time through the diligence of the dark elf and the slowness that the cold brought her. The pair that had hunted Carb and herself for so long, they were the ones who had taken what belonged to the Guild. On-A-Storm overpowered her first adversary, and was set to escape when an arrow loosened the item and flung it into the deep snow. A swift turn and unsheathing of her glass greatsword blocked the other two arrows fired by the tall and cruel Altmer who had swapped to his twin ebony swords as soon as he was close enough to slash at her.
The adversaries fought roughly, trading blows that nearly took off appendages had they been but an inch closer. But the Altmer, the golden-colored Elven man, had tricks beyond the younger Argonian - a blast of his own frost spells sent her stumbling back and gasping for breath. Swift footsteps followed, and with a blow to each arm and a kick to her chest, the Highborn sent On-A-Storm tumbling down the side of the mountain.
The pain of his swords, sting of his ice, and force of his kick - all were wiped from Storm’s mind as a bright-seeming blackness engulfed her.
